Celebration
by Tales by Eresse
Summary: Some celebrations transcend rhyme or reason. Written for fanfic100 challenge on LJ. Claimed: The Sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir


**Title:** Celebration  
><strong>Author:<strong> Eressë  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> JRR Tolkien - The Sons of Elrond  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Elrohir/Legolas  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> 095. New Year  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Some celebrations transcend rhyme or reason.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This is an offshoot of the story _Sacred Bond_ but it can also be read as a stand-alone.

Ithilien, _echuir_ F.A. 3  
>In the reckoning of the restored Kingdom, the New Year began on March 25 in commemoration of the fall of Sauron, the deeds of the Ring-bearers, and the renewal of hope and life for the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. But among the Elves, closely attuned as they were to nature's cycles of birth, growth, waning and death, the transition from winter to spring was cause for celebration whether or not a Dark Lord had been vanquished just before the turn of the season in the 3019th year of the Third Age.<p>

Elrohir breathed in the herb-scented air of Ithilien with relish. The province was shedding its winter guise and its wild but spare loveliness was giving way to the lush dryadic beauty that had earned the region the appellation the Garden of Gondor. This far south, the snowy mantle that marked the cold season elsewhere was in little evidence and winter was evinced by drier, crisper weather and the ascendancy of hardy vegetation and wildlife that could withstand the lower temperature. Spring's advent was not as dramatic as in snowbound regions but the signs of its coming however subtle were visible nonetheless. And in Ithilien this was especially so. Its forests simply became ever more beauteous to behold. Small wonder that a certain Wood-elf had become so enamored of the fairest province of Gondor.

It was now some three years since the passing of the Keepers of the Ring to the West and Legolas was determined as ever to establish a colony of Elves out of Greenwood in Gondor. Thus, after securing his father's approval for the venture, the archer had requested his Peredhel mate to accompany him south once more that they might together survey the forest Legolas had chosen as the site for the settlement. It was their first journey back since the end of the war.

They had dutifully attended the New Year revels in Minas Tirith for neither Aragorn nor Arwen would forgive them were they to forego a visit. But as soon as propriety permitted, they took their leave and hastened to Ithilien and the location of the Wood-elves' realm-to-be in the south of Middle-earth.

Elrohir glanced at the tent they had pitched in the wide glen in the middle of the woods. Legolas had not yet roused himself from slumber if the stillness within was anything to go by. Elrohir smirked. It seemed the Elven prince had been tired out by the previous night's exertions. He strode back to the tent.

Peering in he saw that Legolas was indeed fast sleep. His eyes glinted when he noticed that the archer's blanket now barely covered his hips. One slender thigh peeked out from under one edge. Elrohir sighed as the too tempting sight divested him of all good intentions. He hesitated, torn between waking up his mate and letting him continue his repose, such as it was. Or rather, would be.

Legolas slowly awakened as tendrils of pleasure took hold of every nerve in his body. Starting out so faintly that they had seemed but part of his dreams, they soon evolved into rapture so powerful that he was all but throbbing with ecstasy when he realized what was happening to him. Still unseeing as he struggled to fully come awake, he blindly reached down and found his last dream to be rooted in reality.

He whimpered the Elf-knight's name as he was relentlessly drawn into wet warmth while long fingers repeatedly pierced him, readying him for an invader of greater length and girth. A moment later, his legs were spread wide and pushed up and he was summarily filled to the figurative brim. And a welling of sensation not his own surged across the bridge of their binding to wash away the last of his wits and will.

Gasping raggedly, he awakened in full. His sight finally cleared enough to meet Elrohir's darkened gaze.

"Sweet Eru," he half-sobbed as he was steadily cleaved.

He helplessly moaned when an unremitting spate of firm strokes and deep thrusts brought him to the very brink of fulfillment. And then his lips were captured and forced apart and his mouth plundered with breath-stealing rapaciousness. There was no stopping the spiraling of rapture between them then and with a strangled cry he spent himself. A scant heartbeat later, he felt the heat of Elrohir's spending fill him, the Elf-knight groaning with bliss as he too came to completion.

For some minutes after, they lay entwined, their breathing labored and their hearts toiling to regain their normal rhythm. Legolas did not loosen his hold on Elrohir but slid his hands through the younger twin's luxurious raven locks and down his sleek back.

"Wherefore your manner of waking me, my lusty knight?" he queried with a lazy grin when he finally found the wherewithal to speak.

Elrohir lifted his head from the creamy shoulder he'd been nuzzling and with a smile said: "'Twas but a celebration, beloved."

"A celebration of what?"

"Whatever you'd like." At the archer's sweetly puzzled expression, he softly laughed and added, "Anything is reason enough for us to celebrate with loving. Anything and everything."

Glossary:  
>echuir – 'stirring', the Sindarin term for the elvish season that lay between February 11 and April 5<br>F.A. – Fourth Age  
>Peredhel – Half-elfHalf-elven  
>wherefore – for what reason or purpose (<em>archaic<em>)

End


End file.
